<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Vampire X Catgirl by Tabby_Shieldmaiden</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26492131">Vampire X Catgirl</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tabby_Shieldmaiden/pseuds/Tabby_Shieldmaiden'>Tabby_Shieldmaiden</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>A little weird and crack, Catgirls, Catholicism mention, Conversations, Crack Treated Seriously, Daikimakura mention, Don't Know How To Tag This, F/M, Gen, Imaginary Boyfriends, Imaginary waifus, Islands, Kind of crack taken serously?, Screen Reader Friendly, The ambiguous line between friendship and romance, Trippy, Vampires, possibly cringe? but cringe culture's dead so..., thank you tag wranglers!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 11:47:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,880</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26492131</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tabby_Shieldmaiden/pseuds/Tabby_Shieldmaiden</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Ivan used to belong to Genevieve, until one day she outgrew him. Now he's left on the Land of Abandoned Ideas, and he's going to have to try to adjust. But luckily for him, he doesn't have to face this journey alone.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Original Female Character &amp; Original Male Character, Original Female Character/Original Male Character</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Vampire X Catgirl</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Okay, first of, I want to have a list of acknowledgements.</p><p>-Teddyloid and Daoko, for making Me!Me!Me! and GIRL. I listened to both of those a ton while writing and editing this, and they sort of did inspire this story.<br/>-Jim Henson, David Bowie, and Jennifer Connelley for making Labyrinth and inspiring another part of the story, sort of.<br/>-My friend Earl for writing Labyrinth meta and for his encouragements.<br/>-My friends Loud and Ellie for listening to my mad ramblings.<br/>-Two discord groups. The Area 52 discord group and my friend Dark's discord for being cool spaces which encourage creativity.<br/>-The people on Tumblr who wanted to read this sort of story.<br/>-And you, for taking the time to read this.</p><p>This is gonna be my first original story uploaded onto AO3, and I hope you guys like it!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Genevieve was fourteen, and still insecure about herself, she created him to be her imaginary boyfriend. And for a while, he was her embarrassing little secret. A part of herself which she never even told her best friends about. </p><p>She took elements from the boy bands on the magazines her older sister owned, the fantasy novels she adored reading and projecting herself into, and the cute older boy who tutored her for maths (the one she had a secret crush on, which not even her mother knew about). From those elements, Ivan was born. She drew him in her sketchbook, and even wrote short stories about him in her diary. This was how she described him in one of her entries:</p><p>He was tall and very handsome. With broad shoulders, thick eyebrows, and high cheekbones. He had pale skin and scarlet eyes, as most vampires did. His lithe, slender body was always adorned with black clothes. Whether it was a quality leather jacket and combat boots, or a plain black t-shirt which showed off his muscles. His lips were always slightly reddish, for he was a vampire, and in his mouth two very cute, pearly white fangs hung from his perfect gums.</p><p>Ivan was grateful for the fact that she gave him those fangs. One could never be ungrateful for good dental hygiene. Though he often wondered how she had managed to fantasise about him being slender and waifish while also simultaneously being muscular and fit. He supposed that was just a part of being made up in a young girl’s imagination. Consistency of body types didn’t matter when his main purpose was to be used by her.</p><p>And she did use him well. She had whole storylines devoted to the two of them. She met him one day while out on a walk. And from there, he began following her around constantly. Hiding in the shadows, waiting for her outside of her school, essentially stalking her. Genevieve wrote him as possessive. If another boy talked to her, especially if he was boorish or impolite or downright mean (as most boys her age seemed to be to her at the time), he would always be there to chase him away and then wrap her in his muscular/slender arms. Then whisk her away to his castle, where he would act like a gentleman and treat her like a queen.</p><p>But though she was his precious thing, cherished and taken care of, she still was meant to listen to him, obey him, love him. If there was a ball to attend, she wore what he chose for her. She never made the first move, he always took the lead. Whatever he wanted them to do, they did. No matter what, she had to do it. And in return, he was her slave. He was merely a part of her fantasy life, his only goal in life was to please her. And for a few years, he did. Since all she wanted was a guide to tell her what to do when navigating relationships. And with him being both gentlemanly and commanding, he was the perfect learning tool.</p><p>When he wasn’t being drawn in her sketchbook or written about in her diary, he was thought about. In daydreams, while doing homework, and before she fell asleep. And all of it, his possessiveness and devotion; the stalking and embraces; the ballroom dances and calls to obedience and (when she got a little older) the occasional bodice ripping always helped to whisk her away to dreamland.</p><hr/><p>But then she started using him less often. She stopped writing about him or drawing him. At first gradually, then all at once. She started working on a comic, and that took up most of her time spent doing creative endeavours. On occasion, she would think about him before she slept. But it became less and less common. More often than not, she ended up thinking about a real boy in her life. Some nerd in her art class, apparently. She graduated from high school, went to University, and he became a less and less important part of her life.</p><p>And one day, he woke up on a boat drifting in the middle of an endless sea. As dark and inky as the sky above it. </p><p>He looked around the boat, which was completely empty except for him, and one other person. The boat’s captain. He stood at the wheel, tall, dark-skinned, and in sailor’s uniform. His cap was worn at a jaunty angle, so that some of his dark curly hair showed underneath it. </p><p>Immediately, he walked up to the captain. Questions bubbled up to the forefront of his mind. “Where’s Genevieve?” He asked. “And how in the world did I get here?”</p><p>The Captain turned towards him, an eyebrow raised. “Oh, haven’t you heard?” He asked him, hands still firmly on the wheel. A small but compassionate smile crept onto his face. “You’re an abandoned idea.”</p><p>Ivan was clueless. An abandoned idea? He had no idea what he meant, so Captain Jack (that was his name) filled him in on what was happening. “You’re a creation of someone’s imagination, aren’t you?” Ivan nodded. That much he knew. </p><p>“Well, since you’re an idea, you need to be consistently thought about in order to have any relevance. But human minds are funny things. They’re great at remembering what’s important to them, but sometimes people forget. They forget dates, facts, and sometimes, in order to make way for newer ideas, they forget older ones which they don’t find useful anymore.”</p><p>Ivan thought back on Genevieve and her comic. How she had used her sketchbook recently. She drew a wider variety of things now. More than she did back when she was still in high school. Some of them were for her art classes in University. She drew humans, objects, vampires - but the vampires she drew were not him.</p><p>“So, since you aren’t an idea being used anymore, you’re now on your way to The Land of Abandoned Ideas. It’s where they all go when there’s no place else left for them in the real world.” He patted Ivan on his shoulder, as if trying to comfort him. Though Ivan strangely enough did not feel much need to be comforted. He was more confused than anything.</p><p>The Land of Abandoned Ideas? It sounded like one of those children’s books Genevieve would read to her younger brothers. Islands surrounded by crystal clear waters. Filled with exotic flora and fauna. Fantastic creatures working and playing in harmony together. Now he was going to a place like that? “What does it look like?” He asked.</p><p>“Well, it honestly looks a little different to each person who goes there. Ideas are funny things, because they disappear and reappear whenever they like. So that’ll be some good news for you, because at least you’ll never be bored,” He chuckled. “But the basics are that it’s a collection of islands. I’ll be dropping you off on one of them. And no matter which one I drop you off on, that island will always be a little different whenever you wake up.” Captain Jack turned his attention back to the seas, and Ivan was left silent.</p><p>Throughout the entire journey, he didn’t think much about the new land. He thought not about his new life, or even the boat he was currently on. Most of his thoughts instead revolved around Genevieve, for that was how she designed him. His identity was to revolve around her, and her alone. And so for the whole ride, he thought of her, and asked himself why she had decided to abandon him.</p><hr/><p>When they finally arrived on one of those islands, Captain Jack came down with him to give him a short tour of the place. “The exact location of these things might be different each day (ideas, such inconsistent things), but there will always be trees to harvest food from, fish to catch, a pool to bathe in, another pool to get drinking water from, and plenty to explore. All the islands in the archipelago have these things, and I’ll leave you to explore this one for yourself.” He walked towards his boat, waving goodbye at him. “Well, see you someday, maybe.”</p><p>Ivan waved back, watching Captain Jack leave. Once the boat took off, and was nothing more than a dot in the horizon, he turned back to the island, and walked off to explore.</p><p>He saw the fruit trees first. Growing fruit like papaya, coconut, and (Genevieve’s favourite) banana. He continued walking, and saw a small and unusual tree sprouting out from the corner. It looked similar to those papaya and banana trees, but out of it grew bags of blood, similar to bags of blood seen in ambulances and hospitals. He inspected it further, and read the labels on the ‘fruit’. O negative, B positive, AB positive… strange how such a tree like this existed. It seemed uniquely tailored to vampires.</p><p>He continued walking along the coast. In the sea, he noted just how many fish there were. There was a wide variety, both freshwater and saltwater. Goldfish swam alongside salmon, and they swam alongside flounder and dory and tuna. It was admittedly unusual, but maybe oddities were just the norm in The Land of Abandoned Ideas.</p><p>Captain Jack was right about there being much to explore. Ivan walked for what felt like hours, and the island still stretched on. Recalling what Captain Jack said earlier about a place to bath and gather drinking water, he kept a lookout for bodies of water.</p><p>He expected there to be some sort of lake in the middle of the island for him to do both in. That was how it always was in the children’s books Genevieve read to her brothers. But after much searching, he never found such a pool. Instead, he found a small portable toilet hidden behind some vines. </p><p>He stepped in to explore it further. And the first thing he learned when he stepped foot into the bathroom was that it was larger than it appeared to be from the outside. Inside the porta-potty was a fully equipped bathroom. The toilet had a bidet and a seat warmer. To its far left, the sink held a soap pump, two bars of hand soap, a stainless steel cup, and several toothbrush holders hung above it. Ivan opened up the cabinet/mirror above it, and explored all the products within it. Extra toothpaste, hair gel, shaving cream, razors and razor blades, combs, brushes. There seemed to every toiletry a person could ever need. </p><p>Across the bathroom, opposite the sink, there was a huge wooden cabinet. When Ivan checked to see what was in that, he saw a hairdryer, a flat iron, several cans of hairspray, a shower cap and a rubber duck. All the things which could not be fitted into the small mirror/cabinet, he assumed. </p><p>But the thing which truly cemented how big the place was, compared to how big it appeared on the outside, was the fact that a whole bathtub and shower could be fit into the place. It was a big one too. Ivan tested it out, and even though he was nearly two meters tall, he could still fit in comfortably. In a metal rack above it, there were a few bath products. Soaps, shampoos, conditioners, bubble bath, various different bath toys and a back scrubber. </p><p>When Ivan climbed out, and walked out of the place, he concluded that even though he would now spend the rest of his days on the island, at least he had one well-equipped bathroom.</p><p>He continued walking, and wondered where he could find things to drink. While a vampire really only needs blood to survive (at least the type of vampire Genevieve made him to be), he did occasionally drink a glass of wine in Genevieve’s fantasies. For the aesthetic, he assumed, considering he never got drunk from red wine. Ivan wondered what sort of drinks the island had. Would there be alcohol? Any juices or milk? It would no doubt be at least a little fantastic. Everything else he saw was.</p><p>The sun was setting, and all around the orange tint of sunset turned into a deep shade of blue. He walked a little longer, and the sky grew darker. The tides grew higher, and the moon’s silvery light shone down on everything. Ivan’s lips curved up into a small smile. He recalled that Genevieve made him so that he loves those sort of environments; dark and dismal, except for the light of the moon.</p><p>And finally, he found it. The place where islanders could come to get their drinks. </p><p>The device was hidden behind several trees, so it would be pretty hard for anyone to find. He hoped that in the future, it would be easier. It was at least very recognisable. Shaped like a slushie machine one could find in convenience stores, it was also decorated with dozens of neon green flame decals. Ivan decided that it was a little too gaudy and flashy for his tastes, but at least it could get him a drink if he ever wanted one. He could see multiple buttons for different drinks. Including many different sodas and alcohols. One could even adjust how old they wanted their wine.</p><p>But there was yet another interesting sight there behind the trees. Something which Captain Jack had not told him about. </p><hr/><p>As he walked a little closer to the drink machine, something - no, <em> someone </em> - popped out of the greenery. It made Ivan jump back a little in surprise. The Captain did not say anything about anyone else being here.</p><p>He looked at the newcomer closely, using the night vision Genevieve had decided to give him. And when he did, he saw one of the strangest creatures he had ever seen in his life.</p><p>The newcomer had the basic body shape of a short woman with an ample bosom, but there were notable differences from the average short woman with ample bosoms. The most obvious of all was the fact that she sported two large, pointed ears on the top of her head. Furthermore, from the way they twitched and moved, it looked like those ears were an actual part of her head, as opposed to being attached to a headband. </p><p>He then noticed that she had a tail. A long, bushy tail, peeking out from underneath her skirt. It swayed from side to side, so it was unlikely that that was fake too. The woman looked around, bouncing about in her Mary Janes, until she finally saw a drink which she wanted. She then grabbed a cup from the stand, and filled it up. </p><p>“Excuse me, miss, but who are you?” Ivan finally called out. And once she turned around, he finally got a good look at her.</p><p>Her eyes were big. Big enough that they took up half her face. And in the dark, they shone, revealing them to be a light amber colour. She dressed like a vintage doll, in a lacy dress with a knee-length bell-shaped skirt. A pink choker was around her neck, with a bell attached to it. And her long hair was pinned up into a ponytail with a tiny pink ribbon. He turned to look at the drink in her hand, which seemed to have a sort of creamy consistency.</p><p>She continued staring at him, like a deer in the headlights. Her ears and tail twitched, and a blank look filled her face. Or maybe it only looked blank to him because her eyes were so big and wide, and her mouth was so small?</p><p>“It’s alright young lady, I won’t bite.” He took a step closer. Her shoulders hunched up. In an attempt to make herself appear smaller, he assumed. Drats, he really did not intend to make her uncomfortable. But Genevieve designed him to simply exude intimidation, so it wasn’t like he could help it. “I just want to know.”</p><p>Her thin lips continued to stay sealed shut. She clutched the cup of milk closer to her chest. “My name’s Ivan,” he offered, in the hopes that she would follow.</p><p>And after a few awkward seconds, she managed to squeak out, “M-my name’s Suzuki…” She blushed, as if talking was something embarrassing to her.</p><p>Ivan smiled, then closed his mouth once her expression changed from bashfulness to fear. “Ah, sorry about that, Madam Suzuki.” He rubbed the back of his neck. Darn those fangs of his. She still stood there quivering, so he tried to explain himself. “I’m a vampire, you see. The teeth are just a trait we all have.”</p><p>She nodded warily. “Oh, alright.” A pause. As if she had no idea what to say next.</p><p>But he still had questions. How did she get here? Was she an abandoned idea too? What was her story? </p><p>He was in the middle of forming his next questions, when suddenly her glass slipped from her grasp. It fell to the floor, splashing creamy liquid all over her. “OH- err!” she squealed out, her voice high-pitched and cutesy. “Oh, no!”</p><p>And in an instant, any questions he might have had got pushed aside to make way for a basic instinct of his. Genevieve designed him to be a perfect gentleman, and he simply could not stand seeing any young maiden in distress. With her big eyes and quivering bottom lip, she seemed legitimately distressed by that little mistake. So he immediately got to work. Time to help out the poor damsel!</p><p>Within minutes, he found a rag near the cup dispenser (how convenient), helped her dry up, and offered her his coat to keep warm. “Ah, I’m so embarrassed,” she buried her face into her cupped hands, “I’m so clumsy…”</p><p>“Chin up. Accidents happen, all that matters now is that we cleaned you up and neither of us got harmed.” The thought of potentially broken glasses <em> did </em> make Ivan flinch somewhat, but a maiden was a maiden, and maidens in distress deserved comfort over any broken cups. </p><p>Once it seemed like she had calmed down a little, huddled up in his coat like a somewhat frazzled, but comparatively more settled blob, Ivan returned to asking her questions. “Well, to get our minds off of that, I have to wonder. First, what are you? And second, how did you get on the island?”</p><p>Suzuki turned to look at him, her head slightly cocked to one side. “Well, firstly, thank you for helping me. And to answer your question... it’s kind of a long story…”</p><hr/><p>She talked all night, and he sat there and listened. Just the two of them, on the beach, seated side by side while she talked all about her life before arriving on the island.</p><p>She was the creation of a boy named Tom. A catgirl, based on several animated series he enjoyed watching. She called them anime. Originally, she was merely a rough sketch he did one day. When he was locked up in his room, away from the rest of his family. “I was made out of a lot of really complicated emotions,” she admitted. “He was only fourteen at the time.”</p><p>But then he started to draw her. More and more often. Every day after school, he would run back home to escape into his room. Then he would turn his tablet on, and draw picture after picture of her.</p><p>He drew her non-stop. In different poses, in different outfits, all of them cutesy, later becoming suggestive when he grew older. The ears went through many versions, as did the tail. But her general concept remained the same. She was always cutesy, always a little clumsy, always a little meek, always <em> his </em>.</p><p>His expressions of love ultimately culminated when he saved up enough allowance to pay an artisan to make something in her image. He was a talented young man. Artistic, creative. But there were still some skills he lacked, and ultimately he needed to commission someone else to make a…</p><p>“What’s a dakimakura?” Ivan asked.</p><p>“It’s kind of like a bolster, but a big one. People often have characters they really like printed onto them, so that they can hug them,” she explained. “Tom commissioned a picture of me to be printed onto his, and every night he would cuddle with me using that.” Suzuki sighed. Based on the faint smile on her face, it seemed to be a fond memory of hers.</p><p>Picturing what it might look like in his head, and what the owner of such an item could do with it, Ivan could imagine Genevieve wanting one of him.</p><p>“And so that was our life for a while,” said Suzuki, bringing the conversation back on track. </p><p>Tom practically lived in his room, only coming out for meals and school. She was his muse, his beloved. During those days, she lived in the unreal world of his imagination, and in that world she was always there to pay attention to him, adore him, and take care of him. He would provide for her a steady supply of sweet treats, head pats and cuddles. It was all she could ever want.</p><p>“But then, things changed…”</p><p>It all started, in her eyes, when he began drawing things for other people. “There was a girl he liked in his art class, and she was into vampires. He started drawing some to impress her, and he started drawing me less.”</p><p>The time spent with the girl from his art class increased, and in turn time spent with her decreased. He no longer stayed holed up in his room after school. More and more of his time was being spent outside, and time spent indoors was time he spent studying. “He didn’t use to study much at all either. His mom used to be really upset at him because of it too.”</p><p>Eventually, he brought the girl over. And Suzuki would watch them. From a distance, while she was tucked away in the corner of his bed as a body pillow. Tom and the girl gathered in his room every Friday. He introduced her to several animes about vampires, and they watched them all together. Arms wrapped around each other, covered under the same blanket. </p><p>He soon forgot about her. She was merely another pillow on his bed, another character which he drew only on occasion. Though he still hugged her when he slept, it simply did not feel the same. It felt more impersonal. Like he was hugging her out of habit rather than out of tenderness and love for her.</p><p>“Sometimes, I wished he just stopped cuddling me altogether. To be loved less and less, slowly over time is truly worse than losing love all at once,” she lamented. </p><p>Ivan had to agree, though he did not say it.</p><p>Eventually, it was time he left for college. And so his mother made him finally clean out his room over the summer, because he was growing up and it was about time he straightened it up. He listened to her and got to work. “Because he was a good boy. Even if he didn’t really like his mother all that much.”</p><p>Tom sorted all the things he had in the room into three categories. Things he wanted to keep, things he wanted to give to charity, and things which should have been thrown away months ago. And she had hoped that she would have been good enough to at least end up in the charity group. But when he saw her, all mangy and dirty from years of laying there unwashed, he stopped, stared at her for a solid three seconds, then tossed her into the garbage bag for trash. </p><p>She blacked out from the shock of that. And when she woke up again, she was on a boat to this island.</p><p>“I don’t even know how long I have been on this island. Could be weeks. Could be months. Could even be years…” she drifted off, as if she had nothing else more to say on the matter, and desperately wanted to find a more light-hearted topic to switch to before she got too sad.</p><p>All Ivan could do was nod and listen. In many respects, they were very much in the same position. But since he was just starting out on this new journey, there wasn’t much that he could say which was both truthful and comforting.</p><p>It was rather comforting though, in a weird way. Even though both of them were confused, and a little fearful of life without their creators (her showing it outwardly and him feeling it inwardly), at least they did not have to go through it alone.</p><p>They watched the sun rise together.</p><hr/><p>Ivan has originally wanted to plan out a schedule for daily activities. But Captain Jack was right about the island being a constantly changing force. It was difficult for a solid schedule to be penned down on an island of that nature.</p><p>In the beginning, Ivan had tried to mark down the number of days he had been on the island for his personal reference. First on a tree. Then on the ground. Then onto his own palm. But every time he did, the tree would disappear the next day, the winds would blow and cover up markings in the sand, and his palm would mysteriously heal up. As if the island itself was opposed to the very idea of scheduled order.</p><p>It was an island where even the trees weren’t firmly rooted to the ground. Every time both of them looked away from any location, even if only for a moment, when they looked back things would be different in some way. Something new would show up, or something would disappear. The placement of objects would shuffle, or something else even more random. For example, once a small patch of sand mysteriously turned pink when they turned their backs. </p><p>As far as they knew, they were the only ones on the island. But strangely enough, after the first couple weeks (Months? Years?), they grew used to life there. Ivan theorised that since they were both technically supernatural in their own ways, they found it easier to accept the strange and unconventional. “In my experience, the odd tend to accept other oddities more readily.”</p><p>He thought back on Genevieve, and Suzuki shared stories about Tom. Both were, in their own ways, social outcasts. Growing up, they had few friends. They were interested in all manner of niche topics. And that nature <em> had </em> to be reflected in the creation of beings like them. </p><p>(Suzuki told him that Tom’s parents found his love for anime weird, and that was partially why he hid away in his room so much in the beginning. He also recalled some of Genevieve’s peers mocking her for her love of the supernatural. Once someone defaced her notebooks because of it. Writing inflammatory statements and ripping whole pages out of them. Pages full of ideas for stories and sketches. She never found out who, but he remembered Genevieve wrote a three-thousand word story about him comforting her that night.)</p><p>Strangeness met strangeness on that island, and it created its own strange form of normalcy. When they were hungry they searched for food and ate, and when she was thirsty they found milk for her to drink. (He would often take a sip of wine too, just to accompany her.) Schedules be damned now, they just needed to trust their bodies now when it came to those matters.</p><p>When they weren’t looking for food, water, or the bathroom, they got to know each other better. Sometimes they played games. She was <em> very </em> playful, loving activities such as hide and seek or tag. Sometimes he told her stories which he loved. A well-read man, he memorised many tales by heart. And she was a great audience. Always asking questions, always curious about the lives of the authors and why they told the stories they did. They had many conversations about stories, books, and storytelling as an art. </p><p>And he had to admit, it was fun to finally have an opportunity to truly <em> talk </em> and <em> gush </em> in <em> detail </em> about his interests. To have her <em> listen </em> and <em> pay attention </em> too. To have a real <em> conversation </em> about art and literature. It was simply grand.</p><p>But most of the time, they did end up talking about their old creators. Genevieve and Tom were - at least at first - the main subjects of their conversations. They would share stories about them, talk about them as people, compare, contrast. They both had a lot to say about them too.</p><p>“Do you ever wonder what they must be up to now?” Asked Suzuki one day. They were seated on the beach. It was mid-day. After a game of tag and storytelling, both were tired out and resting.</p><p>Ivan thought for a while. A few minutes to gather his thoughts, a few moments to decide what was appropriate to say. “I don’t quite know. But I do hope they managed to cope without us. Sometimes, I do worry about what they must feel without us beside them.”</p><p>Suzuki seemed rather content with his response, like he had articulated something which she had been thinking too. So she merely purred in agreement. They both sat beside each other. In silence, they watched the clouds drifting across the island. Together, they gazed up at the sky, looking at the shapes they formed up there.</p><hr/><p>They began inventing their own games after a while. Suzuki was easy to amuse, but it was also easy for her to lose her attention and grow bored with the same old games after a while. But fortunately, Genevieve used to spend loads of time babysitting her younger brothers. All Ivan had to do was recall some of the games she made up to amuse them, and then teach Suzuki how to play them.</p><p>Her favourite of the lot was a storytelling game. In that game, the goal was to create a story together, one sentence at a time. He would say the beginning line, then she would continue with another line. Then it would be his turn to contribute another sentence, and so on and so forth. “This game really does work better with a larger group than two,” he admitted, “but for now we shall have to make do with what we have.”</p><p>That game was her favourite because with his knowledge on literature, they always invented such creative stories together. She loved the lines he came up with, how he always pushed their stories in such creative directions. “It’s really cool, especially since I’m not all that smart or creative at all,” she told him one evening. “You’re the one who really makes the game fun.”</p><p>He wrapped an arm around her, an action which he was told she found comforting. “Oh, don’t sell yourself short. The most important lines in a story aren’t the ones people remember. All those sentences are needed to support the flowery, poetic ones.”</p><p>She purred. Grateful to get that sort of praise. </p><p>“And anyways, I really just borrow things I recalled reading about from other stories,” he confessed. “It’s more my memory at work here, rather than my creativity.”</p><p>They ended up making up lots of stories together playing that game. At first, they made up tales about their creators. What would happen if they met, what would happen if they came to the island. Those sorts of things. That eventually led to them speculating about their families. Including their parents, siblings and classmates into their adventures. There were discussions, a few debates. But not that many, since neither of them were particularly argumentative, especially not Suzuki. </p><p>She, as much as possible, avoided conflict like the plague. In the past, when Tom used to get into fights with his parents, she used to hate the yelling and the loud noises which came from their fights. “If I could have cried, I would have…” she confessed, hands wringing nervously. “I wonder though, is it possible for body pillows to cry? Or anything like that?” She added.</p><p>“Well, body pillows I’m not sure about. But I do know there have been reports of weeping statues.”</p><p>“Oh?” Her eyes widened, her ears perked up and her tail twitched. All signs of excitement for her. “Tell me about that, please?”</p><p>And so he did. “There have been reports of statues who weeped in the past. Remember when I told you about Catholicism?” She nodded. He was well-read in many fields, and one of them was religion. “Well, many of the statues which were reported to have cried were those of the Virgin Mary. They’ve bled tears of water, blood, sometimes scented tears. Many of these cases, the Catholic church considers hoaxes.”</p><p>“Oh,” she said, sounding a little disappointed at that.</p><p>“There are a few cases which the church verified, however. One which comes to mind is Our Lady of the Turning Eyes.”</p><p>“Hmm…” She cuddled up closer to him. “Can you tell me about it?”</p><p>“In the 17th century, the city of Rottweil was under siege from the French during a war. As a result, more people in that town began praying for help. One day, the statue of Mary in the church started changing. Her face turned pale, and her eyes moved. Catholics and non-Catholics alike claimed to have witnessed this event.”</p><p>“And what about the war?”</p><p>“Ah, yes. The French troops were defeated. Many attributed the victory to Mary.”</p><p>“Wow,” she sat up, folding her knees to her chest. “I do wonder now though, what are your own views on religion?”</p><p>That was when he had to pause and think. “I… actually don’t know.” He clasped his hands together. “In all honesty I have never given this much thought at all.”</p><p>“Why?” Asked Suzuki. “I mean, these are supposed to be important things.”</p><p>“They are. I... simply never thought much about my place in all of this.”</p><p>He knew why. Back when he was still an idea with a use, he had a purpose to fulfil. And that sole purpose was to be used by Genevieve however she wanted. She wanted an intellectual lover, and so that was what he became. But her idea of an intellectual lover was a man who had read a lot, was familiar with concepts and mythologies, but would never develop his own thoughts and opinions. He was meant to listen to <em> her </em> brilliance and <em> her </em> observations, without ever speaking over her. And while that worked when he had a purpose, now he was on an island <em> without </em> Genevieve. He had lots of knowledge, lots of information stored within his brain. But hardly anything to say <em> about </em> them. </p><p>Suzuki cocked her head to one side again. And then placed her hand above his. She gave it a squeeze. “I think I understand what you’re going through…” she said. She rubbed her cheek against the crook of his neck, and that was the last thing either one said all night. Then they silently watched the sunset together until they both drifted off to sleep.</p><hr/><p>The next day, a bookcase showed up on the island, and Suzuki dragged him to it. Pointing at it with a big smile on her face. “Look, those are some books!” She pointed out, bouncing on the balls of her feet. </p><p>“Ah, so there are,” he smiled. He inspected the titles, all books which he had never read before. There seemed to be a wide variety of genres too. Both fiction and non-fiction. There were adventure novels, romances, horror, comedy. Autobiographies and science journals and even a few instructional books.</p><p>He picked a book at random - a thick work of fiction with a leather cover - and started to page through it. Catching random lines, looking to see if anything caught his eye. It turned out to be quite a good pick, because looking through it like that, the book managed to catch his attention. Random lines jumped out at him, making him curious as to what went on in the story. “Hmm… this does seem quite interesting.”</p><p>“It does?” Went Suzuki.</p><p>Ivan nodded. “I shall have to read this one at least. At first glance, it sounds fascinating.”</p><p>“Oh,” Suzuki walked up to him, and peered down at the book. He held it out, and she paged through it, eyes narrowed in focus. “I wish I knew what you mean, I don’t think I can read very well at all.”</p><p>Ivan raised a brow. “What do you mean?”</p><p>“Well…” she chewed her lip. “I can sort of make out a few words in this, and I know the alphabet song. But I don’t know what a lot of the words here are, and all of them put together don’t make much sense to me.” She rubbed the back of her neck, and a faint blush appeared on her cheeks.</p><p>Ivan nodded, rubbing his chin as he listened to her. “I see…” He then turned to sit beside the bookcase, and patted at the space beside him. Suzuki understood, and sat cross-legged beside him in response. “How about I teach you to read?” He suggested.</p><p>Her ears perked up straight at the suggestion. “Are you serious?” She asked. “You really want to teach me how to read?”</p><p>Ivan nodded. “Now come on. The best way to learn is really to practice. So, why don’t we read through this book together?”</p><p>He opened it up to page one, and using a finger to go through the words, he began with the opening line. “Now, how many words do you recognise?”</p><p>She pointed to a couple, and he nodded. “This opening line right here reads, ‘Once upon a time, there was a very lonely dragon.’ Now, why don’t you try it?”</p><p>“O-once upon a… a time, there was… there was a very lonely d-dragon.” She read it out slowly, pointing at each individual word slowly as she verbalised it out. All the while, Ivan nodded, mouthing the words whenever she got stuck. And they continued on from there. If Suzuki did not know what a word meant, Ivan explained it to her patiently and included an example to teach her how to use it. If Suzuki pronounced a word incorrectly, Ivan taught her how to pronounce it right. They ended up spending the whole day working on chapter one alone. But by the end of it, Ivan gave her a smile and a pat on the head, and overall they both felt like it was a day well-spent.</p><p>Teaching Suzuki how to read soon became a part of their life after that. Slowly, they made their way through the book. All the while, Suzuki grew in confidence and Ivan grew in tenderness. Suzuki’s speaking voice grew louder and more confident the more she read out loud. She became hooked on the story, and Ivan frequently had to remind her to eat, sleep, or to have a drink of milk, because she was so engrossed in the story. Eventually, they were reading four or five chapters a day. And in no time, they finished the book.</p><p>“That was amazing!” Cheered Suzuki. “Can we read another one, Ivan?”</p><p>Ivan smiled. “But of course. But first we shall have to look for the bookshelf.” Suzuki took the book off the shelf the day they found it, and ever since then she refused to let it out of her sight. When she slept she hugged it close to her body, so as to make sure she never let it go.</p><p>They both scoured through the island after that. Searching for the bookshelf where they had originally found the book. And after a good ten minutes of hunting, they found it hidden behind a boulder. There was a little space on the shelf, where they had pulled out the book. And when they slotted it back in, it fit perfectly. “So, which book would you like to try out this time?”</p><p>Suzuki looked through it carefully. Inspecting all the covers and titles the shelf had to offer. Eventually, she pulled out a thin red book out from the centre shelf, and presented it to Ivan. It was entitled ‘The Dog in The Boat’. “Hmm, looks interesting,” said Ivan, as he paged through the book. “Let’s give it a go.”</p><p>So they sat beside each other, and read it together. They finished it in a day, just as the sun was about to set.</p><p>They were not quite sure how long it took for them to finish reading through the whole bookshelf, but they eventually did. Over that time, they learned many new things from those books. About science and maths, about art and emotions. They walked a mile in dozens of different shoes. Suzuki got better and better at reading. They were voracious. Going through book after book at such an alarming rate they soon had to worry about whether new ones would be supplied to them. </p><p>For the most part, they enjoyed the books too. There were one or two which they disliked, and a few which they had differing opinions on. They talked about them often. The two of them could discuss those types of books for hours on end, and they often did. Until they grew too hungry or tired and needed to care for themselves.</p><p>But the book which stuck with them the most was among the last few they read from that shelf. It was a book about a man who had gotten amnesia, and needed to rebuild himself while he also had an established life to lead. The man had a wife, two children, and an office job. He was first taught just enough to function in those contexts. But further on in the book, he began to grow depressed. And that was because in the process of rebuilding himself, he had started to deviate from the person he once was. No longer was he a man satisfied with living as an office worker, a family man. He developed a passion for art. Fell in love with a hooker. Went streaking and skinny dipping in public places.</p><p>And the book ended with him leaving his family. Driving away in an expensive silver car with his new hooker lover. Away from dreary old Liverpool, towards someplace sunny like Greece or Italy.</p><p>And when they finally closed that book, they could only sit in silence for a while. The protagonist of the book had lived a life completely alien to theirs. Yet, it had somehow managed to touch on something within the two of them. Something which the two of them had been trying to ignore.</p><hr/><p>Once they finished every single book on that shelf, the next day they found a new shelf filled with all sorts of new books for them to read.</p><p>“Let’s start from here,” said Suzuki, pulling out the first book to catch her interest. It was thick, with an olive green cover and yellowing pages. There was also the distinct smell of old books stuck to it. </p><p>So the two of them read that book together. Suzuki read one chapter out loud, then Ivan did, and that pattern repeated itself until they finished the whole book in one day. By the time the final chapter was read, the sun was going down. So Suzuki slotted the book back into the shelf, and the two of them wrapped themselves up in each other's arms, and sat down to watch the stunning display before them. Not a word was exchanged, they were merely happy to be in each other’s company.</p><p>The passage of time slipped by them readily on the island. Neither of them had any idea how long it has been since they first arrived there. Because of that, they adjusted themselves to be merely content with living in the present. The future was as unpredictable as the island’s layout, and the past had started to blur together, so there was really no point thinking too hard about either past or future. There was only the now. And the now was where they spent their days in hedonistic bliss. </p><p>They did have to work to find food, drinks, and the mystical porta-potty. But all those tasks had gotten easier with time, interestingly enough. The island was still unpredictable, but the more time they spent on it, the more it provided. If they felt hungry, all they needed to do was think of some food, turn around, and lo and behold there would be a meal for them. The island had adapted, as if it now considered the two of them a part of its ecosystem.</p><p>One evening, they were cuddled in each other's arms, watching the sunset. When Suzuki began talking. “You know, I wonder how Tom and Genevieve are doing now.”</p><p>Ivan had to take a minute to think about his answer. It had been a long while since he had thought about it. The last time he really thought about them had been… since before the bookshelves started showing up. “Hopefully, living their best lives. Continuing their studies, improving in their art, facing the world happily and bravely.” They had needed them when they were created, but now they didn’t. They had grown beyond them, and hopefully they would grow even further than that.</p><p>Suzuki hummed, agreeing with his answer. She allowed him to rest his head on her shoulder, and she nuzzled his face there. He in turn cradled her face, causing her to purr at the touch. </p><p>It had been a while since they had last thought of them. And the way they phased out of their minds had been a bit like falling asleep. At first gradually, then all at once. Ever since they found the bookcase, their thoughts had become occupied with completely different things.</p><p>“You know, I have to wonder now…” she continued. “Do you have any thoughts on the meaning of life now? On religion? Or anything about any beliefs at all?”</p><p>Ivan nodded. “That I do.” Recently, they had both started reading a book on religions. It was a collection of writings by different religious leaders from all over the world. Compiled together for the reader to compare and contrast themselves. And Suzuki had been meaning to ask him what his thoughts were, but only now remembered.</p><p>“What do you think then?” She asked.</p><p>He licked his lips, collecting all his thoughts together. “I believe... that what we are is at least partially constructed by ourselves. We may have had a starting point, and there may be some things which never change about us from that starting point. But fundamentally, change is always possible, and change is a very powerful thing.” He paused. “I’m not quite sure if there is a religion out there which fully encapsulates my beliefs, but that is the belief which I would consider my North Star, at least.”</p><p>Suzuki purred, satisfied with the answer. And the two of them watched the stars in the sky before falling asleep tangled up in each other’s arms.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I feel like there's a missing scene in this, but I can't think of anything to write. I'm also a little tired of writing it at this point, so I'm taking it as a sign that the story is done. Thank you so much for reading it! Comments and Kudos will be appreciated!</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>